


Week 2 - BAMF!Castiel

by DidjaMissMe



Series: SPN Hiatus Creations [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Castiel, Apple Pie Life, BAMF!Castiel, Dean Misses Sam, Demons, Post Swan Song, Supernatural Hiatus Creations, drunk!Dean, hella demons, idk man theres a lot I could tag but I'm lazy af, remembering Swan Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:28:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidjaMissMe/pseuds/DidjaMissMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven isn't peace and domesticity, heaven is consequence and power personified in that beige trench coat. </p><p>That's why, when an angel blade appeared out of nowhere and landed in one of his assailants' black eye, Dean laughed. </p><p>That's heaven. <br/>--------<br/>For SPN Hiatus Creations: Week 2<br/>BAMF!Castiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Week 2 - BAMF!Castiel

_ "Life, is kinda like a pie," His mother would say, as she kneaded out the dough, and Dean would wash the apples before they made filling. "It's sweet, and everybody could always go for a slice. But sometimes, you don't have enough eggs for the recipe, or your pie gets baked a little too much. But it's still one hell of an apple pie life." _

_ Dean would always listen to his mother, and remember. _

_ Till Sam came along, and he would listen to his mother sing lullaby's at night - _

And always remember her screams.

 

It was a sound he never expected, and an experience he would never forget. For since then, Dean had been on a downhill slope. Then, he had hit rock bottom while suspended in hell, and fought and climbed his way back up - quite literally - by breaking through the ground of his grave. Back at his brothers side, with an angel on his shoulder, things had started to go well (losses didn't outnumber victories quite as much), till the Incident. When  Dean watched his brother (and half brother, and a sort-of-brother he never wanted to see again) fall into the pit of all hell from his own free-will, Dean's will fell with him.

He didn't know where to go, what to do, or how to do anything. He lost all he had left, and even more so when his prayers were returned with silence. But, he did have a name, an address, and memories of one hell of a night. Now, his only worry was where to park his impala.

Dean found himself living and loving the domesticity of long summer nights, mowing the lawn, suburban barbeques, and testosterone-fueled football nights. With Lisa and Ben he lived an apple-pie-picket-fence life he never knew he needed. 

Till his warped mind changed the picket fence to wrought iron, and the apple trees were dead and yel lowing and he was pulling into the cemetery, and the rings, and the ground gave way, and  and  and-

Perhaps that's why Dean was spending this Thursday night at a 24 hour bar, drinking anything and everything. He was drinking himself into an alcoholic stupor, hoping to get drunk enough to pass out and not deal with the memories in his sleep, or the pain of being awake.

And well, it sort of worked. The bartender had cut him off, and taken his keys. That pissed him off. If he could walk straight, he could drive straight, right? But when the bartender didn't believe his  soberiety , and didn't return the keys, Dean found himself proving his walk on his way back home.

It wasn't a bad night to be out, at least. The summer sun had warmed the day, and left a bit of heat lingering into the night. The sky was clear, the stars were out, and the air had a certain  hum  to it that couldn’t be described, and couldn't be beat.

Dean walked in a relative direction of home, wondering when it became "home" and not "Lisa's". So lost in thought, he failed to notice the drop in temperature, the quick silence, the eery empty street... pausing only when the one streetlight flickered and then failed.

It was even darker.

The light came back on after a breath - It illuminated the intersection where Dean stopped, casting a soft orange glow in the otherwise black night. The light only seemed harsh when stopped by the opposing shadow figure across the street from Dean. Drunk or not, Dean knew supernatural when he saw it.

The light flickered again, and Dean reached for his waistband - to find it empty.

No gun. He twitched his foot, to find his boot empty.

No knife. He was suddenly aware of the lack of weapons on him, save for the almost empty beer bottle in his hand. Despite the layers of flannel and jacket, Dean felt naked.

No hope. Yet, he'd still fight. He smashed his bottle against the lamppost next to him, a  make-shift  weapon in his hand, and a determination to take this son of a bitch down with him.

The light popped, and showered him in sparks. Ducking to protect himself from the glass, he shot back up - regretting each drink as it tried to make its way back up his throat.

"Dean Winchester," The voice called, "I've got a bone to pick with you." It was closer this time, and Dean in a drunk panic swung out, only to catch air. He swung the glass around this time, only to be stopped by another hand.

"We all do," a different voice sounded, the grip around his wrist tightened, and he dropped the bottle when a  fist  landed in his face.

_ Fuck.  _

Then everything happened, to quick to process, yet seemingly, achingly, slow.

He could hear the bottle shatter at his feet. He could feel his shoulder burn at Cas' mark. He could see the streetlight shine, even without a bulb. It lit the crossroads brighter than before, showing Dean the numerous figures approaching him, and giving him enough time to watch the eyes staring into his flick to black.

_ Demons. Friggin' great. Well, if he's going down, he's going down swinging. _

Dean cocked his arm back to take out the fugly, only to have it held back, then twisted into a hold behind him. One demon had snuck around him, pinning him back. He kicked out his legs - anything to postpone and possibly damage - as a different leg snuck in between his, and wrap around his right. He stumbled, lost his balance, relying on the demon behind him for support. He was useless, pinned, and couldn't help but laugh. At least he got to live a bit of heaven with Lisa and Ben before being sent off to who knows where.

Heaven. That life wasn't heaven. Heaven  isn't  peace and domesticity, heaven is consequence and power personified in that beige trench coat.

That's  why, when an angel blade appeared out of nowhere and landed in one of his assailants' black eye, Dean laughed.

_ That's _  heaven.

The demon that taunted Dean in front of him fell back, scrambling to get the heavenly weapon out of his face. He heard a sickening  snap!  from behind, and the body holding Dean tight went slack, falling at his feet.  He stumbled from the lack of support, and fell right as the black smoke whipped away from the vessel. He watched as another pillar of demon smoke left the original assailant, ignoring the hellbound to search for Heaven.

Cas was a flurry of  trench coat  and black smoke trailing. The some-odd number of demons never stood a chance, as they dissipated with a touch to the forehead or powerful blow. 

"Down, Dean!" The voice was deeper with fury, and rougher than memory forbade. Dean rolled over and curled in on himself just in time to feel - rather than see - the blinding and  bright  that was Cas - that was pure angel grace purifying and leaving no enemies to spare. When his world dimmed and quieted once again, Dean rolled back over to his back, looking up to see a new light bulb in the lonely  streetlight . Cas never left anything half-assed.

Chuckling, Dean lifted himself up, exhausted and still too drunk to properly function. His mood sobered at the sight of a blood-splattered, battle-muffed Castiel, shadows of black wings opposing the new light and spreading till they faded into the black of night. The wings flickered out of dimension, as Cas bent down to pick his blade out of the eye, and wiped it off on the demon - now dead vessel's- shirt.

"DamnCass-" Dean started, and was startled to hear the slur in his heavy voice.

"The Winchesters are under my protection!" Cas proclaimed, looking to the skies and beyond, his statement echoing along the road, for all who cared to hear and remember. "And the Winchesters will be saved." He looked straight at Dean, ensuring the truth he meant and the promise he'd keep.

 

_ And it rang, as clear as a bell, 'Dean Winchester has been saved!' _

 

Before Dean could even thank him, Castiel was gone. Again. And Dean was left alone, in the aftermath of a bloody battle, underneath a dull streetlight. He listened to the quiet night, and did his drunken-best to remember the moment his mother's word rang as true as a bell - 

_ Angels are watching over you. _

**Author's Note:**

> spnhiatuscreations.tumblr
> 
> Yooo hit me up
> 
> victorianwatson.tumblr


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